


Open Your Mouth

by thegirlnamedcove



Series: Kinktober 2017 by Cove [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beta Shift, Biting, Bloodplay, Claws, College Student Stiles, Frottage, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Marking, Rutting, Teeth, beta shift sex, beta!derek, biting kink, fangs, minimal kink negotiation, some allusions to eating your sexual partner, this got a lot more intense than i intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 02:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12245706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlnamedcove/pseuds/thegirlnamedcove
Summary: “Okay, so for the record, I never had any plans to tell any of you, because it’s private,” he shot Derek a glare on that word, and then turned back to pouring and doctoring the chardonnay, “but I can tell that if I don’t give you something you’ll team up with Scott and execute the ‘Stiles is possessed again, everybody panic’ emergency plan. So. Wine.”He pushed the mug over the breakfast bar towards Derek. He eyed it with some suspicion, but after a beat accepted it and dropped onto one of the barstools. He took a sip, and watched Stiles drink for much longer before setting it down and huffing.“I’m not in any danger I didn’t ask for.”





	Open Your Mouth

“So, hypothetically,” Stiles started, and then cut off at the collected groans around the room. He stuck his tongue out at Derek in particular, who was sat at the opposite end of the loft table picking at a container of general tso’s feigning disinterest except for a smirk he couldn’t quite tamp down.

“If this is about World War II again, I am going to scratch your eyes out,” Isaac said.

“First of all, that final was worth 75% of my grade, and it was a _bitch_ , so excuse me if I got a little...focused.”

Isaac snorted.

“ _And_ ,” Stiles glared, “I’ve been over it for like a week. Forgive and forget already.”

“Okay,” Scott said, “so, then, hypothetically…”

“Hypothetically...what would a beta have to do to turn someone?” he held up his hands before anyone could reply, “I know, I know, they can’t. Hear me out, though, I know I’ve heard the Argents talking about a scratch being able to do it, quote, ‘if it’s deep enough’, and I’ve heard Derek say that someone’s body ‘fought it off’, or that someone or something was ‘immune’. Even if it is magic, it seems to function like a virus for the most part. And if you have the symptoms of a virus, in this case fur and fangs, you’d have to be a carrier. Even if transmission is tricky. Right?”

There were no groans the second time, just a lot of betas looking down at their plates or off into the middle distance, and Stiles grinned to himself. After a while Lydia hummed and sat back in her chair.

“Well we’d have to think about all the times we’ve seen a beta attack a human and not turn them in order to get an idea. But now that I’m thinking about it, when have we ever seen that?”

Derek nodded, “Most betas wouldn’t even try. There’s no reason to hurt a random human, and with hunters it’s usually safer to run.”

“Exactly,” Stiles tapped one chopstick against the rim of the table like a drumstick, some rhythm he half remembered, as he spoke, “You guys have teeth, but it’s really impractical to fight with your mouth, you have to get really close. Claws are better, and your fighting reflects that.”

“Well...maybe this won’t help, but I know the traditional place to receive the bite is in the fattest part of your hip or stomach. Technically you can do it anywhere, but my mom always said the bite took better when the person receiving it was willing to bare their belly.”

Lydia huffed a laugh, and Isaac grinned sharply.

“Yes, Alpha,” he said, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“The point is, maybe it has something to do with that. Something about entering the body deeply and slowly, instead of through a major artery. Or maybe it is the symbolic submission, magic is full of stuff like that. People showing their loyalty, their vulnerability, enduring pain.”

Stiles felt his cheeks warm with a blush, and ducked his head to hide it.

“I guess we can’t really know, unless we’re willing to run some really sketchy experiments,” Scott said, and then he shrugged and the subject moved on.

Derek watched Stiles in between bites, he could feel the eyes on him like a touch, but he didn’t contribute again until everyone was saying their goodbyes.

 

***

 

He caught him in the hallway on his way out, one arm still halfway in his coat sleeve, and snagged onto his collar. Stiles made a sound in his throat like a question mark, and Derek held up a hand until he heard the last beta step out of the first floor lobby and into the parking lot before he said anything.

“So, do you want to tell me what tonight was about? Why are you concerned about betas turning people suddenly?”

“Mmm? Oh, it’s nothing, just curious. You know how I get, I just chase things down sometimes, they don’t have to mean anything, usually don’t.”

“So this does mean something. You only do this ‘ignore me’ stuff when you’re lying.”

Stiles scoffed, and shrugged out of Derek’s hold.

“What, like you know me so well? You can just read me that easily, huh?”

“Stiles. Cut the shit. Are you in trouble?”

“What? _No_ , I’m not.”

Derek narrowed his eyes and then hauled Stiles in by the waist. Once the door was shut and the latch in place, he spun around to where the man was standing in the entry looking rumpled and angry.

“Gee, thanks, love being a ragdoll you all just toss the fuck around--”

“Why did you lie?”

“Wha-at? I--”

“Just now,” Derek gestured broadly at his chest, “You said you weren’t in danger but you lied. What are you into, and why haven’t you told anyone?”

“I didn’t...I don’t… Ah, hell,” he ran his hands through his hair and turned toward the kitchen. He seemed to know just which cabinet Derek kept the alcohol in, and pulled out a bottle of wine and the pack’s flask of aconite along with some mugs while he spoke, “Okay, so for the record, I never had any plans to tell any of you, because it’s _private_ ,” he shot Derek a glare on that word, and then turned back to pouring and doctoring the chardonnay, “but I can tell that if I don’t give you something you’ll team up with Scott and execute the ‘Stiles is possessed again, everybody panic’ emergency plan. So. Wine.”

He pushed the mug over the breakfast bar towards Derek. He eyed it with some suspicion, but after a beat accepted it and dropped onto one of the barstools. He took a sip, and watched Stiles drink for much longer before setting it down and huffing.

“I’m not in any danger I didn’t ask for.”

Something cold settled in Derek’s gut, and he braced against the counter.

“Stiles whatever is happening to you, it’s not your fault, no matter what someone is telling you. You didn't ask for it.”

“Pretty sure I did. Signed a contract and everything.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up, and Stiles snickered into his mug.

“Contract?”

“Well,” he hedged, “nothing formal. We didn’t have witnesses or whatever, but we talked about what we each wanted, wrote it down, I added some gold stars and glitter, and there we go.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“This guy from college, Jake” Stiles smiled at his hands where they were curled around the cup, “He’s not my one true love or anything--and you are so not allowed to tell Scott I’m dating guys by the way, he’ll be so mad that I didn’t tell him first--but he’s sweet and respectful and, well, he wants a chance to put someone in danger. And I want to be in danger, of a certain kind. So….”

Derek knew he had on what Laura used to call his ‘rebooting’ face, but he couldn’t stop it. His brow drew down and knit together, his jaw clenched, and he just stared at Stiles while he worked through what the fuck all of that meant. Stiles liked men. Stiles had a man. Who enjoyed hurting him, and who had handed Stiles a piece of paper that said, what? “Do you find me threatening, check yes or no”? What did they even do together, bungee jump? Danger was really vague, and just what did it have to do with…

“Wait, what does that have to do with betas?”

“Well, he’s a werewolf.”

His brow furrowed even more.

“And you want him to turn you?”

“What? No, I don’t want anyone to turn me, that’s the point. I just...do you really not get it? You’re older than me and you have the internet.”

“Get what, Stiles?”

He smirked, and set his wine aside to take Derek’s hand in his.

“Derek, sometimes when two guys share a dorm room and have compatible sexualities, they draw up a glittery agreement, one of them shifts into his beta form, and then bites the other one while they have sex.”

Derek reared back and tugged his hands free, almost overbalancing on his stool, and Stiles cackled across the counter.

“Oh my god, your _face!_ ”

“Why would you do that? What is even...the point of that?”

Stiles shrugged, although under the mirth there was a nervousness in the way he fiddled with the hems of his sleeves, “I dunno, man, I mean we could get into a whole discussion about kink if you want but I feel like if it doesn’t make sense to you on a gut level it might never make sense. Some people aren’t into pain, it’s fine.”

“I mean...I’m not,” oh god, “opposed?”

“Really now?” Stiles tilted his head, considering, and then snagged the bottle to pour out more for both of them, “Okay, it’s story time.”

“There’s no story, it’s just...I mean, sex,” the word felt so strange to say that word out loud and under the bright lights of his kitchenette, but he wanted to know more than he wanted to stop, and he could tell this would not be a one sided conversation, “it always involves some element of pain. Someone is always the...aggressor.”

Stiles quirked an eyebrow,.

“Not for a lot of people. There’ll be a pursuer, sure, but like a statistical majority of people are turned off by pain, not on.”

Derek blushed, but watched the way Stiles’ hands moved as he illustrated. He wondered where on Stiles body there might be teeth marks. He’d never seen him moving in a way that suggested anywhere was tender, but there was a lot of time to heal before school breaks he supposed. They can’t be doing it that often, could they?

“So, my question is, which one are you?”

“Hm?”

“You know. Is Derek Hale usually the aggressor?”

He cleared his throat and took a long pull of wine, his tongue tingling with the shadow of the aconite.

“Sometimes. Not always, but...in the...better relationships. I like to be.”

“But…?” Stiles asked.

“But, I...people just assume that sex is some coded metaphor for how you want the rest of your relationship to go. I don’t always want to be in charge of everything in my normal life. Braeden was really nice to be with, she pushed me, y’know? But then when it came to us in...private...it didn’t click at all. Because she was still pushing me.”

Stiles frowned, “What about Morgan? Like a year ago.”

“You know what Morgan was like, you constantly ordered him around. It was like I’d hired you an assistant instead of gotten a boyfriend. He was exhausting, honestly. He constantly needed...tending to”

“Well,”  he mused, “I guess we’re on equal opposite pages. You know what I’m like with the pack and my friends, but when I’m alone with someone I like to be pursued. Chased. Caught.”

Derek shifted in his seat, suddenly needing more space between his legs. He used his mug to hide his expression for a second, knowing it was a bad idea to continue this any further. The conversation should have ended fifteen minutes ago when Stiles had been by the door. But the first glass of wine was being chased by the second to make him feel floaty and warm, and a part of him wanted to grab that excuse with both hands. He’d never thought about any of this stuff, it all seemed so formal. Overanalyzed. Who writes a sex contract?

Stiles, apparently.

He cleared his throat twice before he managed to ask:

“And the...biting? You said he shifted, that’s a bit more than the usual bruises.”

“Points of order: One,” he held up a finger, “the usual bruises is possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever said. You are an unfair person. And two,” he held up another, “that was kind of the point. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t slept with humans, but the lack of fangs is something of a detractor.”

“Doesn’t that take a while to heal?”

“Yeah, dude. It’s awesome.”

They fell silent then. Derek felt a question pushing at him but he couldn’t articulate anything that wasn’t inappropriate and Stiles seemed happy to wait for a few minutes while he turned it over in his head.

“Can I see?”

Well, that wasn’t what he meant to say. But Stiles just smirked, wide and easy, and slid off the barstool to walk around towards him. He turned in place, his legs falling open for Stiles to step between them, and pulled his spine up straight. Like this, he had a few inches on Stiles, and he could see where Stiles’ head tipped back to keep eye contact.

“Are you asking or telling?”

Want sparked through him and he found himself pressing forward, growling under his breath, pleased when Stiles didn’t back away. He whimpered, but stayed put, head tilted and shoulders bowed in towards his body.

“Show me,” his words slurred, and he felt his teeth pushing at his gums, “Where did he bite you?”

Stiles moved slowly, hands shaking slightly, as he went to unbutton his shirt. His breath was coming harder, more deliberate, but he kept his gaze steady. The fabric peeling back from his shoulders, and Derek stopped breathing.

Stiles’ chest and arms bore at least six different marks, always two paired crescents with ridges where each fang had pierced the skin. Some were older, healed closed almost completely, but some--like the one on his bicep, just above the elbow--were new. He could still smell the blood, and the scent of the wolf who had drawn it. His skin was flushing prettily, turning ruddy as the smell of Stiles’ arousal curled around the two of them, and it made the bite marks flush almost purple.

“Sometimes,” Stiles said, quietly, “we would go out in the woods at night. Maybe a fifteen minute drive away, where the joggers go during the day. He would give me a--” he swallowed, “a headstart.”

Derek considered him.

“Wouldn’t make much of a difference, since you’re human.”

“Prey.”

The word was so quiet Derek almost didn’t catch it.

“What?”

“When we wrote it down, we talked about what we were going to call each other. People like you usually go for sir or master. People like me will go for slut or whore.”

Derek gasped, softly, and then groaned and pressed his hips against Stiles’.

“But we just wrote down that he’d be the wolf and I’d be...prey.”

They stood there, both struggling to stay in control of themselves, Stiles’ bare flesh chilling in the cool evening air. Derek wanted so much more of this than he had ever thought to want. Than he had ever fantasized about on his own. But those marks didn’t manifest and as much as he wanted to add his own he knew they came from someone with a much greater claim on Stiles than he had. They might be flirting, but College Boy had feelings, probably. He couldn’t just--

Stiles reached up and caught his chin, forcing him to open eyes he hadn’t realized had drifted shut.

“He isn’t my one true love, Derek. He’s never going to take me on a date and pretend to laugh at my jokes. So if you want to be the aggressor here...you can.”

He let out a breath and then dipped down and threw Stiles over a shoulder. He shrieked, and then melted against him, the hard line of his erection glaringly present where it was pressed right over Derek’s heart. It was only a dozen steps to the bed and when they got there he dumped Stiles unceremoniously on the mattress and tore out of his own clothes. Stiles was a puddle on the sheets, gone lax and pliant except for where he was straining to hold his head to the side. The movement bared his neck all the way down to his clavicle so Derek could see every dip and hollow. His pulse fluttered under his skin in time with his rapid heart, and Derek could see the logic underlying the name they’d chosen. It made him think of a rabbit. That moment just before you bit down and silenced the beating.

He fell onto Stiles, caging him in with his limbs, and fastened his mouth over the tendon by his shoulder. Stiles gasped at the blunt human teeth and bucked up, grinding against any part of Derek he could reach. He braced against his forearms when Derek pushed back, and then they were moving in sync. It had never been this easy with Morgan, or Braeden, any of the random hookups he’d found himself with over the years. Stiles moved like water, easy and insistent, and his panting had given way to high pitched pleading.

“I need, I need, Derek please. Give me--”

Derek cut him off with a growl, much louder than before and he moaned back in response. Derek stilled, with some effort, and focused on his mouth where it was pressed against Stiles. He dug in harder, worrying at the muscle he could feel, and carefully let his fangs drop and push through the skin. It gave easily, parting around his teeth and he moaned at the feeling of hot blood under his lips.

“Derek, I need...give me your cock, _please_ ,” he pushed at his own jeans, but there was nowhere for them to go. Derek held him fast with his weight, and he growled in warning and caught Stiles hands by his sides.

He pulled his fangs back in and rocked onto his heels, staring at the mark he’d left behind. It was bigger than the others, the incisors wideset and inhuman, and he got a petty satisfaction from it. He pushed his claws out of his fingertips and ran them down the lengths of Stiles’ legs, denim pulling away in strips. Stiles shivered and pushed up to let him free the last of the fabric and they there were both naked, skin hot where they pressed together. There were more marks on his legs, along with long thin scratches that followed the curve of his ass, and Derek groaned.

“I don’t think I can wait long enough to do any prep. So you’ll just have to take what I give you.”

“Yes, wolf.”

“No,” he flashed his eyes, “not the same thing you called him. Pick something else.”

Stiles trapped his lip between his teeth while Derek fished a bottle of lube out of the nightstand and poured some into his hand.

“How about Dom?”

He tilted his head, “Like Dominic?”

Stiles huffed a laugh.

“Like dominant.”

“Okay,” he leaned forward again, covering Stiles’ body with his own and wrapping a hand around both of them, “And what should I call you?”

Stiles sucked in a breath and rocked into Derek’s grip.

“Any-- _shit_ \--anything. Yours, I’m yours.”

Derek let the shift ripple over him, claws peeking out where he held their cocks together, face ridged, and teeth filling his mouth. Stiles watched, slack jawed, and started to move faster, rutting up desperately.

“Oh my god, oh my god, yes. Please. Bite me, scratch me, make me bleed, _please_.”

Derek grabbed at his wrist with his free hand and lifted it up to his mouth. The thrum of his pulse under the surface was vital there, it felt deafening. He dragged his nose down the length of his arm, looking for unmarked skin, and sunk his teeth in shallowly when he found some.

With his mouth latched on he started up a quick pace with his hips, pushing little breaths out of Stiles and he bounced underneath him, and the hot wet channel he’d made with his hands was so perfect. Stiles was so hard against him, and his blood tasted like iron and dirt against Derek’s tongue. It was like running on the moon, all adrenaline and instinct, and he moaned into the mouthful of flesh before pulling back.

“Meat,” he gasped, “Prey.”

“Yes, oh Derek! Dom! Please please let me cum, I need to, I can’t--can’t stop it, I--”

In lieu of an answer he bit down again, this time on the ball of his shoulder, and Stiles keened under him and bowed off the bed. Cum splashed onto his stomach and Derek’s fingers, slicking the way even further, and Derek thrust faster, chasing the pulsing feeling of Stiles’ cock.

He came with his head buried in Stiles’ throat, tongue lapping against the first mark he’d left and his prey quivering under him.

“Oh my god,” Stiles voice was raspy when he finally spoke, pushing gently at Derek to rearrange but not demanding it, “I think you ruined me.”

 

***

 

Once they’d recovered, rehydrated, and showered, Stiles sat on the edge of the mattress again as Derek bandaged the wounds they’d left behind.

“If you’re going to keep doing this, you need to pace yourself more. At this rate, you’ll be one big pile of scar tissue by the time you’re twenty five.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” Stiles challenged.

“Doubt it,” he leaned to the side and nipped at his shoulder, “Scar tissue is a lot less sensitive.”

A shiver travelled down Stiles’ spine and he offered his other arm to Derek’s ministrations.

“Would _you_ like to keep doing it?” he asked, “I know it’s pretty out of your comfort zone, but…”

“Well. I feel like maybe we should write up an agreement first. Or at least have a longer conversation, because I feel like there’s a lot I don’t know that I should.”

Stiles snorted, but didn’t offer a comment.

“And once we have that...yeah, I’d like to keep doing this. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to go out on a date with you. Laugh at your stupid jokes.”

He smiled, ducking his head to hide it.

“You have an unfair advantage there, I think. You love my jokes.”

**Author's Note:**

> For Kinktober 2017. Yes, I know "biting" is listed for Day 3, but none of today's prompts were working for me, and if I'm honest I'm going to be super inconsistent during this whole event. I've got other projects and obligations that will take priority. But I'm definitely doing it because I need to learn how to write sex scenes, darnit. This is literally the second one I've ever written and I managed for procrastinate for over 2,500 words before they get down to business.
> 
> Also, got a lot more involved in the blood aspect than I anticipated. The prey thing was just kind of a rabbithole I fell down, and I might need to have a conversation with my husband about trying some new things.
> 
> Title courtesy of Lady Gaga's "Teeth", which I listened to on repeat while writing. Unbeta'd because I don't have one I can use for sexy things. Beta for beta? No? Okay.


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